


The Games We Play (Dear Father)

by starknadke



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: #nospoilers, (or false advertising), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Disabled Character, Canonical Character Death, Mention of - Freeform, More to be added as work progresses, Paralympics, Rio 2016, relationships too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-03-25 12:11:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13834035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starknadke/pseuds/starknadke
Summary: Professional wheelchair fencer Ivar is competing in the Paralympics for the first time! He's already excited for the competitions, and the opportunity to win a medal in not one, but two events--but there's more than just competitions that await.In other words: Modern AU where Athlete!Ivar and FosterDad/Coach!Floki take Rio, and Ivar's adventures there include not only international competitions, but romance, TV appearances, and unearthed family history.





	1. Prologue (Plane to Rio)

**Author's Note:**

> (content warnings for this chapter: mention of emergency plane landing, mention of vomiting)
> 
> General Disclaimer: I not an athlete (in any sport), not from Sweden or Denmark, and, though disabled, I do not use mobility devices or share the same disabilities as Ivar. While I have been doing research, if I get anything wrong or step out of my lane, please don't hesitate to let me know!

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned on the fasten seat belt sign. Please return to your seats and keep your seat belts fastened. Thank you.”

Ivar sighed. He hated turbulence. It didn't matter that it was a normal part of flying--those sudden starts and drops freaked him out every time. The movie playing on the screen in front of him wasn't distracting enough. He closed his eyes.

Floki tapped him on the shoulder. Ivar opened his eyes again. "You okay?" the older man asked.

Ivar nodded, but it wasn't persuasive. He clenched his fists as the plane jumped about.

"You've tried the movie?" The plane jumped again, and Ivar didn't answer.

Floki humpfed before rummaging around in his seat pocket. "Here," he said, pulling out a pen and notepad and placing it before Ivar. "See if this'll help." He turned the seatlight above Ivar on, and tapped the boy's hand, reaffirmingly.

Ivar wasn't sure if it would work--this was one of the many therapy tricks (both courtesy of Anger Management courses and a couple seasons of Dealing With Loss) that his foster father had learned and latched on to, which were sometimes helpful to Ivar and sometimes weren't--but Ivar didn't have any better ideas.

He clicked the pen on. His hand was shaky as the plane bounced, but the sentences gave him something to do.

_Dear Father,_

_I'm sitting on a trans-atlantic flight, and (surprise, surprise)--there's turbulence. I wish I could tell you I was less scared than that time you and I flew together, but I still get a panic attack whenever the plane begins bouncing around like this. I always feel like it's about to go down._

_I know it's mostly irrational, but hey, it was you who said it was probably nothing just before we had to make emergency landing. And then we emergency evacuated (remember? you carried me off the plane). Flying, turbulence, emergency in the air--everything I was afraid of, all at once. AND I puked in front of you that day._

_Of course, no one died, and no one even lost their stuff, so really the worst part was just the scare and the flight delay--but still. I think about it. How all I wanted was to impress you, show you how tough I'd grown up to be, and literally everything went wrong. That's life, I guess._

_I wish you could see where I am now--I fly pretty regularly. In the last year alone I visited Hungary, Italy, and Ireland. For training, and competitions--I've been putting my anger to good, just like you hoped I would. I'm better than you could've ever imagined I be--winning medals and everything. I'm just Epee and Foil this year, but Sabre will be on the table, too, soon (taking my time--I want to make sure I get it right when I make my debut). There aren't enough wheelchair fencers in Denmark or Sweden to make a fencing team (yet!) but I'll make do. I've been making, do--after all, I'm on my way to Brazil! To Brazil! All of Halmstad--and I even know people in Helsingborg, and of course Hvitserk and Ubbe in Copenhagen--supporting me! To fund my training, and get Rio. A whole Swedish town, backing little old (Danish!) me. It wouldn't have been fathomable were I still at the farm. Or maybe even still with you._

_Regardless, I want you to know I miss you. Floki's travelling with me, and Helga too. Hvitserk and Ubbe couldn't make it, and of course, you couldn't either. Helga says you're here in spirit. I don't know if that's actually true._

_Either way--though I'm mostly fighting for me--I want to win!--I often think of you, Father. As I'm doing right now. I'm about to compete at the Paralympics, after all._

_I promise you, I'm gonna be ruthless._

_Your son,_

_Ivar_


	2. Night One

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the opening ceremony?” Floki asked from the doorway of Ivar’s room in the Danish dorm. “It’s a once in a lifetime experience!”

“Once in a lifetime? Thanks for your faith in my athletic abilities,” Ivar said.

“You know what I meant.”

Ivar just sighed. 

“Ivar?” Floki paused and looked his godson up and down. “There’s only one ceremony in Rio, I mean. But I understand if you’d rather rest.”

After a pause, Ivar nodded. He was still looking toward the ground. Floki stepped towards him, and leaned forward, so their foreheads touched.

“Is there a reason youre so moody, Ivar?”

Ivar shrugged. “Just tired from the trip. And it’s just a ceremony. I’m here for the sport. That’s all.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is?”

Ivar nodded. “I guess...I’ve been thinking about father, too.” He glanced at Floki and then away again.

Floki nodded. “I wish Ragnar were here too.” Floki squeezed Ivars shoulders. “He would be so proud of you.” 

Ivar pursed his lips in that nervous, fleeting smile he sometime shared. “I don’t want to let you down,” he said as it faded.

“Oh Ivar,” Floki said. “You’re at the Olympics. You don’t need to worry about letting us down.”

“Even if I don’t go to the opening ceremony?” Ivar smirked.

Floki rolled his eyes and stepped back. He messed up his foster sons hair. “Yes Ivar. Even if you don’t go to the opening ceremony. But I feel I must go. There is nothing for me to do tonight anyways. Unless you need anything?”

Ivar shook his head. “I’ll just miss you,” he said in that sarcastic-sweet voice he used whenever he wanted to make fun of his old man.

“Har har,” Floki said.

“Seriously though,” Ivar said. “I’m fine. Just gonna get some rest early. Can’t wait to hear all about it.”

“Alright Ivar, Good Night.” 

Floki stepped out the door. “Good Night!” Ivar called as the door closed. 

As Ivar began to undress and get ready for sleep, he could hear the buzz of the arena through the window pane. It only got louder as he transferred into bed—it really sounded like a great party.  But Ivar quickly found himself lying still, in the dark, on top of the specially designed Paralympic comforter (he found it too hot to actually use it), not quite able to fall asleep, and so, just staring at the ceiling instead.

“Father, I really do wish you were here,” he thought. “I promise, I’ll celebrate once I really make you proud.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I chose wheelchair fencing as Ivar's sport because (1) it's like the modern version of sword fighting, which we know Ivar can do (see training seen with Hvitserk), and (2) it's a sport that's often compared too chess, which is the game Ivar probably plays most and so makes sense for obvious reasons. While I think there's other sports (like archery) that might make sense for Ivar too, the combination of immense tactical as well as physical skill is something that I could imagine really appealing to Ivar. 
> 
> I'll be trying to add easter eggs (as parallels with the show, like in this chapter, or references to bts stuff, sport, or athletes who participated in the IRL Rio Paralympic games) here and there throughout this series--keep an eye out in the notes of each chapter for details. 
> 
> Coming soon: Hit TV show The Last Leg! Romance! Drama! Let me know if you'd rather see Heahmund or Alfred compete against Ivar in the comments. 
> 
> And I know fencing is a summer sport--but the Winter Paralympics start next Friday (March 9)! Tune in!


End file.
